Justin loved cereal; his favorites were the sugary, pre-sweetened, artificially-flavored ones. He liked that he could eat as much as he wanted without hearing his mother carp about his teeth rotting "right out" of his head, and he liked that he could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner if he chose, which he sometimes did.

When he was feeling grown-up - or wanted to - he'd eat grown-up cereal. Before big meetings where numbers would be crunched and hardball would be played, he'd quietly consume a bowl of shredded wheat, or one of JC's solemnly healthy blends of European muesli. Justin was a connossieur of cereal, and had absolutely no shame about it. Lately, his favorite had been Cap'n Crunch.

Chris made faces one morning on the bus when Justin, bleary-eyed, ate two bowls of it while reading the back of the box.

"You like that stuff, hunh," Chris said in a conversational tone.

"Fuck off," Justin said, in a tone equally conversational. He ignored Chris and scanned the maze on the back of the package, trying to find the correct path to the Cap'n's secret treasure.

"No offense," Chris offered.

"None taken," Justin said. He raised a cup of coffee to his lips, blowing a little first to cool it. He glanced up when Chris sniggered. "What?"

Chris looked amused, and the look in his eyes was fond. "That's so you, man. That breakfast sums you up perfectly. You're straddling, dude."

"God, is it too much to ask to be left alone?" Justin dropped his spoon in his bowl. "I'm a fuckin' grumpy ass in the morning, we all know this. When I say what I'm about to, Chris, know that I say it with love. Fuck off. Please?"

"See," Chris continued, pointing at the coffee, "You're acknowledging your new status as an adult, but," here he pointed at the bowl of soggy orange cereal, "you're still holding on to your childhood. You're straddling." He looked pleased with his theory.

Justin whimpered. "If I agree, will you leave me alone?"

"Got a little straddling of my own to do, young'un," Chris said, and slapped Justin's shoulder when he passed. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed off toward the lounge. "Get your ass out here for a right proper Playstation kickin'," he called over his shoulder, "your choice of game."

"Nnnggnnhh," Justin grunted, and raised his middle finger.

It was a good day on the three-man bus. They had a long stretch of road ahead of them, so Justin decided to stay in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt. When he shuffled back to the lounge, Chris was playing one of the Grand Prix games, Justin couldn't tell right away which one, and JC had set up shop on the big couch with his keyboard across his knees, a box of lined staff paper and a notebook beside him.

"Hey, man." JC looked up and smiled.

"Hey, dude," Justin said. He tweaked JC's big toe, and JC laughed; when JC's eyes crinkled like crescent moons, Justin grinned and gave his toes another twitch for good measure. JC responded by poking his foot at Justin's hip, but Justin dodged him easily. "Too slow, old man," he laughed.

"There're geriatics among ye, and they're not deaf," Chris said from the floor, grimacing as the car on the screen hit a wall and exploded in a glory of flame. "Hm," he mused.

Justin flopped on the couch behind Chris, who held up the second controller. Justin waved his hand. "Nah, I'm in a quiet mood today," he said. "Just gonna chill for a bit."

Chris turned to look at him over his shoulder. "You're kidding," he said.

"What, I can't have quiet days?"

Chris shrugged and turned back to his game.

"No cereal?"

Justin slipped into his place at the table and reached for the shaker of grated parmesan cheese. He scowled in Chris' direction. "No, and would you shut up about my eating habits, man? I swear, you're as bad as my mom."

Crabmeat, peas, pasta and cream sauce had been turned into lunch in Chris' dubiously capable hands, and Justin and JC tasted the dish cautiously while Chris stood, arms crossed, watching their faces. JC chewed his first mouthful slowly, and his eyes widened. "Not bad," he proclaimed, and tucked in eagerly. Justin had a less forgiving nature regarding Chris' cooking skills, but was pleased to find that JC's opinion had merit. Chris muttered something that sounded like "fuckin' finicky boyband prima donnas" while he filled his own bowl.

After lunch, JC went back to his keyboard. When Justin asked to hear what he was working on, JC turned pink and shook his head. "Too rough. Lemme work on it a little more." But Justin's curiousity was piqued.

"Who's it for?" Justin asked, plopping unceremoniously next to JC. "Me?" he grinned, gently poking JC in the side. "C'mon, it's for me, isn't it." JC squirmed, laughing, while Justin poked him a few more times. "Say it, say it--" Justin was unprepared when JC suddenly grabbed his wrists.

"Stop it, you," JC growled, but he was smiling. "Go bug Chris. If you don't let me finish, you'll never get to hear it."

"I'll be good," Justin promised. "Really." He batted his lashes. JC raised an eyebrow, and he slowly released Justin's wrists, then in a defensive move, quickly wrapped his arms around his own middle. "I said I'd be good," Justin laughed. "Just write, man." JC looked suspicious, but once he slipped his headphones on and powered up the keyboard, he seemed to forget that Justin was right next to him, their long legs pressed tight against each other.

They'd kissed four times.

The first was on Justin's 18th birthday, when he was giddy with beer and JC had been buzzing pleasantly along on screwdrivers. The kiss was breathless, slightly fumbly, and sweet, and months later Justin had returned the favor on JC's 23rd birthday.

They'd been sober and their girlfriends had been in the next room when Justin cornered JC in JC's kitchen. He'd whispered 'happy birthday' before angling his head to nuzzle JC's lips with his own. JC had curled his in fingers in Justin's beltloops and his mouth had opened, and the kiss had been long and wet.

At Lance's big New York shindig the following New Year's eve, they'd sneaked away to the roof of the hotel to look at the midnight sky, shivering and laughing with their heads close together. When they'd looked into each others' eyes and moved together at the same time, Justin had forgotten that he was cold.

They'd found a dim, empty stairwell the following New Year's, and wordlessly aware that it could be another twelve months before they did this again, had kissed, long, slow and deep until they'd lost track of time. They'd separated when a tipsy, giggly Britney could be heard a couple of floors down, echoing Justin's name through the stairwell.

Sitting in the lounge next to JC, JC's long leg pressing warm and firm against his own, Justin craved a fifth kiss, and a sixth. He and JC would be together one day, he knew. Neither of them had spoken a word about it, but Justin felt it as surely as he had when he'd told his mother NSync was going to be a success. JC would be his, and they'd be together, and that was that.

The rhythmic rumble of the road was familiar and comforting, and Justin lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had a list of things he wanted to do, but he was feeling lazy so he hummed to himself and closed his eyes. He'd begun to drift off when someone's cell phone rang; he jerked slightly and opened his eyes.

"Jace." Chris, dying his thousandth death on the race track, paused the game and elbowed JC's knee.

JC was lying on the other couch, listening to his Discman. He pulled the headphones away from one ear when Chris jostled him, and mumbled, "Thanks, man." He unfolded his phone and checked the display, and the little sigh that followed almost went unnoticed. He flipped open the phone and murmured, "Hey, babe."

He didn't listen intentionally - over the years they'd all developed a talent for not-hearing - but JC's suddenly tired expression made Justin blink. JC wasn't happy with her, they all knew that, but he was stubbornly holding on. They'd all done their fair share of speculating on the nature of the relationship, and now Justin and Chris exchanged glances while JC mumbled into the phone. Chris shook his head and shrugged. When JC hung up, Justin steeled himself for another soft sigh.

"Think I'm gonna crash for a bit," JC said, thumbing the power switch on his keyboard and moving the papers from his legs.

"Dude," Justin said softly. He stood to intercept JC, then stopped, unsure.

"Hmmm?"

The light had gone from JC's eyes, and Justin hated that. "Let go, Josh. If it doesn't make you happy, let it go."

JC laughter was hollow and sad. "Sounds easy."

"It is," Justin answered. "Don't worry, the right one's out there for you."

"Yeah?" JC looked amused, and Justin wanted to shake him, rattle some reality into his brain.

"Yeah," Justin said quietly, looking steadily into JC's eyes so he wouldn't miss the point. Behind JC, Chris cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. Justin ignored him. "Just let her go," he repeated.

Justin stood in the doorway, but JC moved around him. "I'll think about it," JC said, and slipped out of the lounge.

"Do that," Justin said. He glanced over at Chris and found him studying the game controller intently.

"So," Chris said after a moment's silence, after they'd heard JC's bunk curtain open and close. "Was that what I thought it was?"

Sweeping JC's neglected notes into a messy stack, Justin stalled for time, sorting his thoughts. He sat on the couch and turned to Chris. "What did you think it was?"

"A better question might be, what is JC supposed to think it was?" Chris asked.

"Is it your business?"

Chris laid the controller down carefully, and Justin knew that they were about to have a no-holds barred conversation.

"Jace can be a moody asshole, an arrogant, anal perfectionist prick, but he's also the sweetest guy alive," Chris said slowly. "You hurt him like the rest of us can't, you know that, don't you? You've seen the tapes, you know how he bleeds when you cut him off in interviews, when you take over like you don't think he can be trusted to express a single thought."

Justin's face burned.

"Don't jerk him around," Chris said. "He's been played enough in his life; you know better than the rest of us, probably."

It was true. Justin was the only one who knew the details of JC's failed first attempt at stardom, the only one who knew about the creep in Los Angeles who'd used JC's voice and body before tossing him aside.

"I'm not playin' him, Chris."

"You'd better not be, because I'll do you bodily harm if you are." Chris' eyes were dark and he looked slightly dangerous; Justin had a feeling that he wouldn't want to mess with 150 pounds of pissed-off Kirkpatrick. "I'm not talking about yelling and pouting and shit," Chris continued to make his point. "I will well and truly kick your ass."

"Chris, this isn't sudden." Justin watched Chris' eyebrows rise. "I've been feeling this for a couple of years."

Chris' eyebrows climbed higher. "Years?"

"Man, I love Brit, but we're about as serious as...as if you hooked up with that couch."

"So," Chris nodded slowly, "JC's the hold up."

Justin leaned forward to take a look down the corridor, then eased the door shut. "That shit in L.A. seriously fucked with C's head," Justin said quietly. "He jumped into a relationship afterward to prove something, I think. To prove that he can be loved for who he is, hell, that he can be loved, period. Now he's afraid to let go, maybe because he'll see it as another failure."

Chris' eyes were huge and dark, and it was one of the few times Justin couldn't read his expression. "You're in love with him," Chris said suddenly.

Justin snorted. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"No, I mean I just realized that you really are." Chris' grin was wide.

"So..." Justin stared at the ragged collar of Chris' favorite down-time t-shirt, a tattered blue one with a faded picture of Rocky and Bullwinkle on the front. "Are we cool?"

"Hell, yeah!" Chris laughed. "Dude, if I swung that way, I'd be after his ass," he teased. Justin blushed. "You're my favorite, J, and I want you to be happy. C's your favorite, and you want him to be happy. If you guys hooked up, you'd both be happy and I'd be ecstatic. Answer your question?"

Relief made Justin giddy, and he pounced on Chris and rubbed his head. They wrestled for a moment on the floor, bumping between the couches until Chris squeaked surrender. They laid on their backs, grinning at each other. "You're a good friend, man. Thanks," Justin said.

Chris sat up and waved the compliments away with a smile. "You treating Jace right is all the thanks I need." He lowered his voice and quickly glanced at the closed door then back at Justin. "Speaking of treating people right, I think there's something you need to do."

Smoothly, like a magician, Chris handed Justin JC's forgotten phone. He stood up without another word, and closed the door behind him when he left the lounge. Justin looked down at the phone and studied the speed dial display, thinking that the call was long overdue.

The door creaked open and JC entered the lounge looking slightly sleep-rumpled and completely adorable. "Hey," Justin said, his voice cracking a little. "It's alive!"

"Screw you, Timberlake," JC yawned. He sat down beside Justin and rested his head on Justin's shoulder. "What trouble are you getting into?" he asked, peering at Justin's notebook.

"Hey! I'm writing a song, if you must know." Justin looked down at JC's face, so close to his own.

"For me?" JC teased.

"Maybe, if you behave."

JC smiled prettily. "OK."

Justin smiled back. "'K." They held the look a second too long to be casual, and if Chris had been in his bunk or on the other bus, Justin would have moved to close the inches between them. From the way JC's eyes lingered on his mouth, Justin could tell that JC was thinking much the same thing.

Hyperaware of JC's warmth, Justin looked down at his notebook finally, and jotted a word or two. "I called Brit;" he said, trying to sound offhand about it. "She said to tell you hi."

"Yeah? While I was asleep?" JC sat up.

"Yeah. We're officially over," Justin added, doodling at the edge of his pad. His hands were shaking a little. "We were never serious anyway, so...I let her go. She should be with someone who really loves her."

"Just that simple?" JC asked, his voice soft.

"That simple," Justin nodded.

"You OK?" JC's hand was gentle on his shoulder. "You doing the statement?"

"She is. She's cool, she won't trash me. Yeah, I'm OK."

JC nodded, and scratched his knee. "I don't think Bobbie would trash me, either," he said quietly.

Justin tried to tamp down a wild surge of hope. "Yeah, she's pretty cool," he agreed. "I think you'd be ok." JC nodded. "I'm here, if it helps," Justin added.

"Yeah, that helps," JC said with a wan smile. He looked down at his fingers, and glanced toward Chris, silent in the corner, his eyes on the TV. JC cleared his throat and stood up. "Think I'm gonna go make a call," he said.

"If you want to talk later, let me know," Justin said after him, his heart pounding. JC turned and gave him a sweet smile and waved. Justin and Chris exchanged a look, and Justin was glad when Chris didn't say anything. Justin's bounced his knee nervously as he replayed their past kisses and tried not to think of future ones.

He was still lost in thought when JC wandered back into the lounge. Justin looked up, startled. "Wow, that was fast. You all right?"

"It was pretty cool," JC said. He nudged Chris with his knee until Chris moved over a little on the couch so JC could sit between them. "We both admitted that we were ready to end it."

"It'll be OK," Justin said, and smiled. He gave JC a quick hug.

"Yeah," JC grinned, the tips of his ears a little pink, "I think it will."

It would be another long day on the bus, so Justin pulled on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt and wandered out to the kitchenette for his usual bowl of cereal. The label on the outside of this newest box promised a sheet of free stickers inside, so Justin tilted the box and shook it until the cereal shifted to reveal the plastic-wrapped prize package. He pulled it out and peeled open the wrapping to examine the brightly-colored stickers.

"'Crunch-a-tize me, Cap'n'" he read. He laughed and tucked the sheet into his pants pocket. He thought he heard a scuffle in the back of the bus, and he leaned out to look down the aisle toward the lounge. An indignant scream confirmed what he'd heard.

"Timberlake!" Chris yelled. "Get out here, man, Chasez's cheating his Frenchie ass off!"

"You kids settle down!" Justin laughed. "Don't make me come back there!"

They were still arguing in front of the Playstation when Justin finally finished his breakfast and joined them. He sat near them on the floor and refused to referee because it was too amusing to watch them settle their greivances on their own. When the discussion was over, JC emerged triumphant.

"Yes! I am the man!" JC grooved in his place on the floor, wiggling and bopping his head. "In your face, Kirkpatrick!" he cackled.

"Here, you get a prize." Justin remembered the stickers and dug into his pants pocket to retrieve them. He peeled one away from the waxy backing sheet.

JC's eyebrows rose and he smiled. "Cool! I get a sticker and you don't," he informed Chris.

"Yeah, see me cryin'?" Chris rolled his eyes.

The slight curve of JC's chest was warm beneath Justin's hand. He pressed the sticker to the soft cotton of JC's t-shirt and he spread his fingers a little. He pressed again, lightly, before he moved back. "There." When he looked up, his eyes met JC's.

"Thanks," JC said softly. Justin's heart stopped. And began beating twice as fast.

"Lemme see," Chris said, and turned JC to face him. "Crunch-a-tize me, Cap'n," Chris read, and hooted. "Man, that just sounds wrong. Ewww, and why does it leave me feeling vaguely dirty? That's supposed to be for little kids?"

JC blushed when he turned back to Justin. "Maybe I'll get crunch-a-tized later," he said.

"Yeah, maybe," Justin said with a smile. "And I should get a prize for putting up with the two of you."

"Hmmm." JC's eyebrows rose. "I think I've got something you might like," he said, his voice low.

"Yeah?" Justin looked up at JC through his lashes. "Gimme."

"Maybe later," JC said. When he smiled, Justin suddenly saw everything he'd been waiting for.

"Holy freakin' God," Chris exclaimed, scrambling up from the floor, "I'm outta here." He leaned down and poked the sticker on JC's chest. "And for the sake of my virgin ears, no crunch-a-tizing on the bus!"

The door had barely closed behind Chris when Justin slid his hand up JC's thigh to rest on his hip. He was trembling, and he gripped the waistband of JC's sweatpants. JC kissed his forehead, then his nose, then leaned forward to take Justin's earlobe between his teeth.

"You wanna get crunch-a-tized?" JC whispered, his slight, gentle drawl warming Justin's belly. "You wanna," JC licked Justin's neck, lightly, "get sex-i-fied?" His lips brushed Justin's ear.

Justin turned his face to meet JC's and nodded, and trailed his slightly parted lips over JC's skin. "Yes." He could barely breathe.

"Are you sure?" JC sounded serious. His breath was hot against Justin's neck, and his arms tightened a little around Justin's waist. "We can stop this now and stay friends."

"Friends who make out once a year and pretend that's enough? No." Justin kissed JC's jaw. He pressed a kiss on JC's neck, then lifted his mouth to JC's, and they kissed for a long moment, JC's body moving against his.

"This isn't just playin' for me," JC said when they parted, finally voicing what Justin had always known. "You're sure?"

"Very sure." Justin slowly stroked the elegant curve of JC's cheek, JC's long lashes as soft as a sigh under his thumb. "You're the best prize I ever got," he murmured.

JC turned his face into Justin's hand and smiled.